


Turn Down for What

by Sweetsigh



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Body Shots, Flirting, Gen, isabela/everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 18:01:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4489323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetsigh/pseuds/Sweetsigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Isabela makes good on her promise to teach Merrill what a body shot is.<br/>---<br/>She straightens up and speaks academically.<br/>“The ingredients are simple. You will need something tart—“<br/>She takes the fruit from Hawke.<br/>“--a bit of liquor—“<br/>She nudges the small glass in front of her.<br/>“—some salt—“<br/>She pinches some salt from the container on the table.<br/>“—and a willing partner.”<br/>She smears the salt on Hawke’s neck</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn Down for What

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly gen, though Isabela flirts with everyone. Written because of party banter

“Now, Kitten,” Isabela says, leaning over the bar to gain the attention of the bartender with the view from the low cut of her tunic. “As your very good friend, I have previously promised to expand your education to include my favorite drink, and today is the day you get to learn.”  


“Oh, yes! Is this what you call a ‘body shot’?” Merrill asks, eyeing the bartender as he places a small glass of liquid with a slice of sour fruit perched on top in front of him.  


“Indeed, my dear. And I’ll even demonstrate for you. All I need now is a willing participant,” she purrs with a sly grin before turning and scanning the patrons of The Hanged Man. Her eyes glance over all the men and women leaning towards her, bodies willingly offered after overhearing their conversation, before she lands on her favorite people. “My good friends!” She shouts in delight as she grabs the shot and drags Merrill to the table.  


“Why am I not surprised to see you prowling about?” Aveline asks as she kicks out the empty chair beside her.  


The chair should belong to Anders, Isabela knows. But recently the mage has cited having problems with Justice not allowing him to frequent the bars with the group. She doesn’t mention anything about Anders, remembering the sad look on Hawke’s face the first time she asked. Instead, she pushes Merrill into the seat.  


Across from Aveline, Varric and Hawke have their heads tipped back, their pints quickly more and more upturned while their throats work rapidly to guzzle down their ale. As one, they slam their glasses down on the table and scream, “I WIN.”  


Aveline and Fenris, clearly accustom to this behavior, ignore the two as they bicker over who won the challenge.  


“Hawke finished first, but Varric had his glass on the table first.” Isabela states, sorting them out.  


“HA!” Varric laughs in Hawke’s face as Hawke leans back and complains about being handicapped because Varric was already closer to the table. “Oh, stop your bawling, Hawke. Only nug-lickers whine about losing a drinking contest to a dwarf. But for a human, you sure do know how to hold your booze.”  


Hawke scoffs but smiles brightly at the sight of Isabela and Merrill. “Isabela! How’re you doing? I haven’t seen you since that time with the Orlesian with the bad moustache who wanted you to—“  


“Yes, I’ve been doing very well since then,” Isabela interrupts. “I am, however, looking for a partner in corruption. I’m going to teach Merrill how to do a body shot.”  


“Corruption?” Merrill squeaks. 

“Aveline?” Isabela leans low over the table, smiling seductively at the guards-captain.  


“I’m married.”  


“Spoilsport.” Isabela accuses before looking towards Fenris and waggling her eyebrows.  


“As tempting the offer, I think I’ll refuse.” He says, voice as dry as her favorite sherry.  


Isabela whines and turns to Varric.  


“Sorry, but Bianca will get jealous. Can’t have that now, can we?”  


Hawke laughs, the sound resounding in the din of the bar. “Not used to so much rejection, are you, Isabela? Who could have imagined this day would come?”  


“Nonsense. I get rejected plenty of times. Only it’s usually over gold and someone usually ends up with my knives in their side.”  


Hawke grins, but pushes out of the chair to stand by Isabela’s side, plucking the small fruit and holding it out to her quite dramatically and wails, “I guess it will be me, sacrificing myself to protect the virtue of all of my friends. What a terrible fate to suffer.”  


Isabela smiles, delighted at the turn of events. “It looks like Merrill will have her lesson after all.”  


She straightens up and speaks academically.  


“The ingredients are simple. You will need something tart—“  


She takes the fruit from Hawke.  


“--a bit of liquor—“  


She nudges the small glass in front of her.  


“—some salt—“  


She pinches some salt from the container on the table.  


“—and a willing partner.”  


She smears the salt on Hawke’s neck, skin slightly damp from the heat of the bar, allowing the crystals to stick nicely where she wants.  


Carefully, she lifts the fruit to place between Hawke’s teeth, her fingers getting a quick teasing bite before she can remove them in time.  


She flicks Hawke’s nose in retaliation and looks back at Merrill.  


“The rules are exactly the same as a normal shot. Lick, drink, suck.”  


Careful to leave a good view for her friends sitting at the table, she reaches a hand into thick locks of black hair to pull Hawke’s head back, admiring the length of skin just for her, and stands on the tips of her toes to press the flat of her tongue on Hawke’s neck. Enjoying the moment, she slowly scrapes the salt away, chuckling lowly when she feels the corded muscles under her tongue vibrate as Hawke lets out a high whine.  


She pulls away from Hawke’s neck with a quick flick from the tip of her tongue, savoring the taste of Hawke and salt, and grabs the glass. She throws the shot back. The liquor is a welcomed fire sliding down her throat and into her belly.  


There is a small clatter when she tosses the upturned glass back onto the table.  


With a wink to her mesmerized audience, she pulls Hawke back down for an open mouthed kiss, biting into the fruit, and letting the tart juices run into her mouth. She hums a little and slips her tongue past teeth to chase the bits of fruit from Hawke’s mouth.  


It’s not a surprise when she feels arms slide around her waist to pull her closer and Hawke kiss back roughly, done with her teasing, and swirling the taste of salt, liquor, and fruit between them. She can feel Hawke’s chest heaving against her own and the hands on her hips leave possessive marks where they hold her still.  


Then, there’s a noise of someone clearing their throats next to her.  


Breaking away, she looks back at her friends. Aveline is rolling her eyes at Isabela’s shenanigans, exasperated but still blushing lightly—a success then. Fenris glanced away a bit too fast to be innocent and is trying to look calm as he sips his ale, though the redness shading his pointed ears belay his demeanor. When he looks back at her, he glowers. Varric is scribbling something on his bar napkin, most likely inspiration for another one of his raunchy books – she wonders if she’ll be in the dedications. Merrill is covering her mouth with both hands, her entire face bright pink, but seems unable to tear her eyes away.  


It also seems that Hawke –along with many strangers around them—can’t stop staring as well.  


She grins victoriously and waves at the bartender for another round of shots.  


“So, my dears, who’s next?”

**Author's Note:**

> So how obvious was it that I was avoiding revealing Hawke's gender? Was it super obvious? I just really love both Marian and Garrett and literally can't choose between them. 
> 
> I'm also not sure if they have tequila or limes in DA2, so I made do. I'm sure Isabela loves to cause scenes with body shots. 
> 
> The working title for this was obviously "shots shots shots".


End file.
